Spiders and Goblins
by When Darkness Rises
Summary: Natasha has been unmade, but she's used to such things. She recounts the tale of the goblin girl to bide her time. Mind control was a tricky little web, but a spider could dance along such strings.


_What if the Black Widow, not Hawkeye, was compromised?_

Spiders and Goblins

The fireplace is falsely warm in the dingy room. The sofas and sleek coffee table are out of place. Everything is twisty and bubbly, and she doesn't trust the reality placed in front of her.

Natasha curls up on one of the sofas in typical feline grace. She purrs like a kitten, distracting from the lithe outline of her panther like form. More importantly, she is intoxicated. Not the blab-all-the-secrets type or can't-walk-straight type. She has class and training to handle such incidents. She's tipsy nonetheless, her whole body buzzing.

She feels warm and safe, and the booze she cradles reminds her of the kind that Grandma used to drink. It's all a sweet, well laced lie that she can't control. She clears her throat and a story pours from sweet, rosy lips.

_Once upon a time, lived a girl clad in only white. She was frail and hungry, but pure. The night descended, when goblin men came from the darkness of the woods. They ransacked the entire town and snatched up all of the children. The girl refused to eat the goblin's fruit, remembering her grandmother's cautionary words._

There's laughter. The fireplace flickers in and out of existence before stabilizing again.

_And so, the goblins are delighted by such resistance, and took pleasure of diminishing the rebellion. The girl became no longer pure and everything was shades of red. The color of blood forever stained the girl._

_The girl was a goblin now. So the goblin girl kills and lies and smiles because she's a monster now._

Natasha stares at the man across from her. The audience sips his wine as she finishes.

_The goblin girl struck out at the Goblin King, ending his tyranny. Although the girl was forever branded by the red stains, she continued to hunt down and slay monsters. The day would come when she is the only monster left—until she too is no more._

The bottle's edges in her crafty, lethal hands become clear. Natasha's final words do not slur. She's intoxicated, but not drunk.

"You are worse than the Goblin King."

Loki twirls his wine glass between his fingertips. He smirks at her blue, blue eyes. "That's because I am a God, my lovely servant."

She bats the eyelashes of an ever faithful servant. Loki is unaffected, unlike other males. Yet he has been intrigued of her past, of her usefulness, of what games that spiders and goblins may play. She envisioned slitting his throat as she whispers an old Russian tale of The Mizgir. A fly tricked the spider. The spider faked death and ensnared the flies and gnats—slaughtering them all.

It's Loki's fault for not truly listening to her mind, for not delving deep enough to understand the core. He remains deaf of his own violation; his downfall. If he had captured the Hawkeye instead, he would have known better than to be in the presence of the Black Widow.

Natasha has been made and unmade, her mind used to be a constant cycle of regaining identity. His little glowing tool stick simply took the place of prodding needles. She never bothered building barriers around her mind. She learned to bend and twist until she became one with her mind once more. Mind control was a tricky little web, but a spider could dance along such strings.

He's laughing again, all devilish smiles, and suddenly he's in front of her. He lifts her chin, eyes meeting.

"Little goblin girl, you are the killer of monsters. Do not think of adding a god's blood to your ledger."

Natasha's words aren't hers. They can't be.

"Unless it is Thor's, of course."

She can't concentrate on anything. His words are fuzzy, but she caught _dangerous and ambitious_. There's a humming in her ears, a beautiful melody singing to her. Unlike the harshness of the Red Room, it soothes her. She can't dance to this.

She has to make a move. Now.

But he grabs her by the wrists and pulls her close, their foreheads touching. Everything becomes blue, green, and red. She's struggling against the overbearing sea of his mind. She has fought monsters, but never gods. He's inside, rolling around in the pits of her memories. He pulls them apart, stranding her in a river of blood.

She feels his breath in her ear. She closes her eyes and controls her breathing.

"Sweet goblin girl: a killer of monsters in the service of monsters. You will assist me of freeing this world of such horrid creatures. Mayhap I will give you a fairy tale ending."

In a split second, the glass bottle collides with Loki's skull and her knee with his groin. She knew how fairy tales ended—in pain or death or suffering. The good ones always did.

He is a god and stunned for mere seconds. It's long enough for her to grab the scepter. Blue fades from her eyes as she places the scepter's tip to his chest.

_You are so certain and so sure of yourself. You do not know how bend to wind. You will only snap and break. Just like the Goblin King. _

"I prefer creating my own tales. Ever heard of the god who fell to the Earth—only to serve a spider?"

**A/N: Thank you for reading. Please tell me what you thought and if you catch any mistakes. :)**


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